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... having slept for barely six hours. She was a single mother of pre-teen twins and the sole care provider for her elderly father, who couldn’t do anything other than barely walk himself around the house.

She hurried through a brief cold shower, which was always not enough and rushed to make a meal for her kids after they returned from school. The family didn’t always have the money for a breakfast meal, which was why Fukiko was glad that the school provided a meal during the day. With the ...

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Marauders shot Yuan in the head and buried him in a ditch. They thought it would be enough to put him down. They were wrong.Rising from the dead by the will of the Gun, demigod of revenge and firearms, Yuan only has one goal in mind: track down his murderers across the Unmade World and slaughter every last one of them. With the bullet-core stuck in his skull marking him as a Gunsoul, he can finally teach these arrogant cultivators a lesson they’ll never forget.But revenge isn’t so easy to claim. To carve out a path through the wasteland, Yuan will have to face power-hungry sects, nuclear cultivators, and weapon-gods. Let them come. No one will bury him again.He’ll give them all a taste of Bullet Hell.

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.

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Tired of the schemes and strifes of city life, Bei Feng finally returned to his hometown in the countryside

While picking asters ‘neath the Eastern fence;

My gaze upon the Southern mountain rests;

Rearing a few chickens and ducks, I shall lead a simple and leisurely life!

However, who would have thought that fate would play a huge joke on Bei Feng? All kinds of magical items and beings of the Myriad Worlds could actually be fished out of the Ancient Well in his yard!

Even a chicken reeled out of the well ended up chasing Bei Feng all over the yard and beating him black and blue! Speechless and aggrieved, he asked the Heavens: if, that day, he’d fished out a Dragon instead of a chicken, what would’ve happened to him!

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MTL - From the Power of Space To the HeavensChapter 173 . It’s better to come early than coincidentally
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“How can it be!”

Tang San looked at the unscathed Lu Yuan in shock, and subconsciously said what was in his heart.

“Nothing is impossible.”

Lu Yuan stood there calmly.

If a spatial ability user can’t dodge the most basic physical attack on the spot, he might as well dig a hole and bury himself.

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